Reality
by BeneathTheVeil
Summary: House/Cuddy. If only that night had turned out differently...


Title: Reality  
Author: hannahharriet

Summary: She could still change it...it wasn't too late... (A House oneshot...my first House fic!)  
Category: Angst, Romance, Drama  
Season:: 5  
**Spoilers: Joy  
**Rating: pg-13 -ish  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. yada yada yada

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Lisa Cuddy slid to the floor, her heart throbbing from the dejection and the dissatisfaction that she had never before felt in such a great volume.

The emotions were getting to her. First there was hope, so much that she could have on many occasions burst out into jubilant tears. Then there was the fear, strong and rampant, that hooked onto her as soon as she saw the telltale clusters, spiraling and sickening, on the girl's arms. But that was only the start of the fear, a little fright, that would crescendo into hysteria. Then, relief. As she'd held the child in her arms, she had urged her to cry…and she had, healthy but for her mother's misled mistakes. Finally, there was the dejection, the _anger_, at the child being taken away from her. Maternal instinct had ensued in both of the women, and Cuddy knew that the tiny infant, the precious little child, wasn't hers. And yet, though that, the anger and the rage stretched her, skewed her even, until she was a writhing mess, the tears refusing to stop their pooling in her eyes.

And then _he_ had come.

Finally, after so many years of wanting it (and she knew that she wanted it, despite her constant need to deny it, to herself and to anyone who thought anything of it), she got it. But _then_, _there_…it wasn't the right place, wasn't the right time. She wanted it, when it happened (she'd been _waiting_ for him) to be happy, playful, mischievous…everything that they were and had always been together.

And yet, he was a comfort, a familiar presence that she had needed so, so desperately. As hard as it was to say, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the working, liberated woman, Dean of a major teaching hospital, the independent hard-ass, needed someone to hold on to. And House was what she needed, someone who actually did give a damn about her. He was someone to cling to, and she knew that he cared…he wouldn't have left if he didn't.

But then, lying on the dusty floor of her hallway, she wondered if she really did want him to go.

Cuddy sighed, a deep exhale of breath that reflected how the past 48 hours had been for her. Oh, she wanted him, especially then. It wasn't even a need for love or sex…she just wanted arms around her, a comfort.

But he was House, and House wasn't the first man to jump to such an occasion, unless said occasion involved carelessly staring at her breasts.

She chuckled at that. If that was how she had to get him…

Cuddy shook her head, a tiny smile on her face, and willed herself up off of the floor. She looked forward, straight to the door, wondering. It had only been moments ago that he'd left…there had to be a chance that he was still outside that door. There had to be. She wouldn't ever forgive herself if she didn't at least _try_.

The door wasn't locked, so it was a simple turn of the handle that opened it. At first, her heart sank. Then she chastised herself inwardly, that little smile begging to come onto her lips. He would never wait outside on her doorstep. It wasn't him. And if House wasn't exactly the man that he was in reality, Cuddy knew that she would have no interest in him. With another sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself and crept forward, down her front step and past the bushes that obscured the street from her porch. And then her heart, so stressed and strained, had the tiniest bit of relief.

"House," she croaked, her voice weak from her crying and his kiss. He was there, on the sidewalk, idly picking up the helmet that was nestled into the seat of his motorcycle.

He turned, eyes searching for the source of the sound. When he found it, those same blue eyes widened and just as quickly narrowed again into the stare that she knew so well. He said nothing, looking at her, _glaring_ into her. She sniffed, feeling so weak, willing him to know what she needed. Even in her darkest moments of distress, she found that it was so hard to let him win. It was so hard to submit, even when she knew that she needed it, that she needed him.

He didn't answer. His hands stopped their movement on the motorcycle and his eyes never left the woman leaning helplessly on the side wall of her home. He'd never seen her like this before, so defeated. And yet, he did nothing, waiting for her.

"House," she repeated, stronger this time. "I…I need you."

She could see him sigh from twenty feet away. The way his eyes left hers at that moment and the way they focused haphazardly on the sidewalk in front of him killed her. She felt a sob coming, willing it away. Because if she wasn't close to him, if she couldn't even have _that_ much, she knew her heart was going to break. She couldn't take the loss of two in one day.

After several long moments, he looked back up. She could see the battle in his mind, the way his eyes darted from one place to another. But her heart lifted again, a tiny bit, when he dropped the helmet and picked up his cane, walking silently towards her. The smile that had been hidden came out, a little bit, as he neared her.

Neither knew how long they stayed on the step, two feet away from each other and staring into the other's eyes. When he narrowed his eyes again into the look that made her think that he knew exactly what was running through her mind, she broke, falling into his arms. "Greg," she sobbed, and she let out all of that sadness, all of that grief, into him. It wasn't like the kiss, not at all. No, when they'd kissed, it had been mutual, both giving and both taking equally from each other. This was all her, pouring herself into him, sobbing shamelessly into his chest as he stood silently, his arms around her, staring straight ahead of him. They stood like that for what seemed like hours. She pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes when the sobbing stopped.

"Thank you," she whispered, when the tears had seemingly exhausted themselves. He still stood there, silently. With every silent second, he was making her more and more nervous. She couldn't remember a time when he'd been that quiet for so long. She wanted to kiss him on the cheek, to evoke some sort of response from him. She couldn't though, not with her mind as twisted as it was then…

Even in her clouded mind, she knew why he was holding back. The words _taking advantage_ ran through her mind as though they were the lighted words on a placard. It hurt her, because she knew he wasn't taking advantage, that he would never take advantage, and yet she also knew that he couldn't possibly be thinking of anything else at that moment. She wanted him there as much as she knew he wanted to be there, yet he couldn't, _wouldn't_ be thinking of anything else.

"House," she said again, a simple statement of his name. Her hands were on his chest, and she looked into his eyes even as he stared straight behind her. She knew why he'd left, knew that she was testing him, his patience, his endurance…he just didn't know that she _wanted_ him to break.

Frankly, that scared her as much as it would have scared him.

"Greg," she whispered even softer, her eyes falling downward. The sound of his name, his first name, brought him out of his silent reverie. He was inducing it on himself, that death-like stare, as if he were standing, fully conscious and yet in a coma.

"Cuddy, I-"

Her finger found his lips as soon as he opened his mouth. "Shh."

They stared at each other for even more time than before. He looked as if he was going to break at any moment. She'd never seen him like that. He looked…vulnerable. It scared her to no end, even more than the light feeling that was coursing through her veins.

"Stay," she stated, simply…but they both knew it was no simple matter. Once more, she was relying on him, leaning on him, just like the last time…

…and what had the last time accomplished?

Nothing but the bickering, bantering mess they found themselves in now.

The look on his face told her everything that was racing through his mind.

"Not for _that _you dirty old man," she murmured, chuckling to herself. "I need you, House. Just…stay. One night. It's all I ask."

He blinked several times, the only thing that signaled that Greg House was thinking heavily on a subject. He also considered that fact that she'd stopped calling him by his first name, a tiny pit in his stomach signaling that he even might have been upset about it. He sighed heavily, smiling sardonically and rolling his eyes before he looked into hers.

"If you had said that to me any other time, and I mean _any_ other time," he grumbled. "God, why do you have to rely on me when I can't take advantage of your body?"

She smiled and laughed, truly laughed, the first time she had after she'd lost the baby.

"Let me tell you, Dr. House," she said, voice stronger and yet quieter at the same time. "If it had been any other time, I would've _let_ you take advantage of my body." That flirtatious glint was back in her eye.

That got him, his eyes wide. "God," he mumbled. And then he groaned. "Cuddy…"

"I'm killing you, I know. I try."

"You know when you use the administrator voice…"

He told himself that he'd cured her in those simple moments. Or at least he'd started the healing process. He'd never back down from a challenge, of course. Never. And Cuddy…well, she was certainly a challenge.

He found himself in her bedroom later, fully dressed, her warm body curled into his on the bed. He never fell asleep that night, as much as he wished he could to forget the woman breathing quietly in her sleep against him. He brushed her hair back in the middle of the night at one point, confused as hell, staring at her face. It wasn't until the sun came up that he'd finally given in to his exhaustion.

Cuddy found herself stretched out over him in the morning, smiling up at the man asleep beside her. She stroked his cheek a little selfishly, knowing full well that if he'd been awake she would have never braved such a sentimental gesture. A kiss was planted there, her soft lips scratched by his stubble. She decided that she liked the feeling.

………………………………………….

Lisa Cuddy woke up with a start. Her heart was pounding, her wet and red eyes wide. Confused, she took in her surroundings, the storm outside, the dark living room, the coldness of the foyer floor.

"House…?" She whispered, but she knew he wasn't there.

It was the most vivid dream she'd ever had…the most satisfying, the most pleasing, and, over all, the most taunting.

She imagined House's arms around her and limped to her bedroom, falling into a light and unsatisfactory sleep.

The next day, she thanked him, for leaving, for not taking advantage.

She would never understand, of all things in her life, why she _thanked_ him.


End file.
